Heart Attack
by LittleGee
Summary: She had always been a good girl, a normal girl. Seventeen years old, she was going to pass school, to live a normal life; just be like anyone else. But when her mother died, she realised things needed to change. She needed to be a hero. But being a hero isn't easy. Sometimes it becomes a matter of life or death. Nobody seems to understand her. Nobody except him.
1. Your Typical Cliche Origin Story

**A/N- Well, hello, hello, hello, my lovelies. I'm here with a new story, which is a novelty for me since I haven't had an idea for one since like, February. This FanFiction is essentially all my fangirly-ness of **_**Kick-Ass **_**all rolled into my OC. Who is she? Well, you'll just have to read on and find out!  
I've based this on the first movie, and if all goes well with this one, I may write a sequel centred around **_**Kick-Ass 2**_**. I should pre-warn you that I****'****m English, not American, so if I get any slang wrong, or put in something British, feel free to let me know!  
I think that's all you need to know for the momento, so on with the story...**

* * *

**Chapter One- Your Typical Cliché Origin Story**

"_Come on, Dad, this way is quicker," I insisted, grabbing his hand and yanking him down an alleyway beside the Chinese take-out place._

"_Valley, for God's sake," he grumbled, gently pulling on my thick brown ponytail to stop me. "I have literally no idea where I am. Do you?"_

"_Well, no…" I admitted. "But come on, how hard could it be to get out of here? If I've worked it out properly, then this should come out two blocks away from our place, instead of the five blocks it'll take to walk the proper route from the take-out. Just…trust me, okay?"_

"_Okay," Dad agreed very reluctantly. "But I hope you realise I'm only doing this because I love you."_

"_Duly noted," I said with a smile. I checked my watch. Nine twenty-seven PM. We were making good time. Mom would either be back from the bar or almost home from the bar, then we could all sit down in front of the TV with some chicken chow mein and prawn crackers, and just chill. Like a normal family for a change._

_Wanting to hurry him up, I started jogging farther ahead of Dad, jumping up on the nearest Dumpster and sitting down on it, swinging my legs._

"_Keep up Dad!" I called tauntingly. "Shit, you're slow! Are you sure you're only thirty-nine?"_

"_That's enough cheek out of you, Missy," he warned me, but he was smiling that crooked smile of his, meaning he wasn't actually mad at me. "And what have I told you about using that type of language at your age?"_

"_Sorry Daddy," I apologised in a little-girly voice, jumping down. Dad was really weird about swearing. Grandma and Grandad were way up in the Catholic faith, and Dad had had all their beliefs drummed into him from a young age. I didn't believe in all the Jesus shit, really, but Dad still dragged me to church every Sunday._

_I didn't complain though, because I loved him, and I wanted to make him happy. Mum wasn't really that in with reality all that much, and Dad was around to keep me sane. And besides, maybe it would be good to have something to believe in._

"_Daaddyy," I then called in a sing-song voice, doing a large cartwheel away from him._

"_Not again, Valley!" he groaned. "Just because you can do that doesn't mean you should!" I just laughed at him, cart wheeling back and giving him a big hug. Dad hated it when I started doing all my gymnastics stuff around him. He thought it was weird that I was so flexible, but I always retorted- rightly so- that it had been his and Mom's decision to send me to Gymnastics lessons from the age of six._

"_My teacher said I'm supposed to practice," I said with a pout, folding my arms._

"_Yeah, at home!" Dad pointed out. "Not in the middle of a near-pitch black alley that's probably filled with dirty druggy needles."_

"_Welcome to New York City," I shot back._

"_That's just what I was about to say," came a drawling male voice from the shadows behind us. I froze, and so did Dad. "Hands in the fucking air, dipshits." That was when I heard the click of a safety being taken off. _

_Scared out of my pants, I did just that, dropping the take-out bag I was holding so the plastic containers exploded and the chow mein and kung-po pork splattered all over the alley._

_Dad, on the other hand, wasn't going to be threatened by this douchebag, as he turned around and demanded, "What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"_

"_Shut the fuck up, old man!" the guy screeched. "Money, phones, iPods! Both of you, now!"_

"_I…I don't have anything!" I whimpered, very close to tears. "Please let us go!"_

"_What's that, girly?" drawled the guy in a way that made my skin crawl. "Turn around so I can see your pretty little face."_

"_Go to hell, motherfucker!" my dad spat, but not wanting to anger the mugger, I slowly turned around, too afraid to do anything else._

"_Daddy, don't!" I begged him._

"_Yeah, Daddy," the mugger said with a malicious smile, pointing his gun straight at Dad's head. "Don't. Now, give me your fucking wallet!"_

"_Alright, easy," Dad said, reaching into his pocket, before suddenly bringing his foot up and kicking the mugger in the shin, flooring him. "Run, Valley! Run!" he yelled at me._

"_But Daddy-"_

"_RUN!"_

_So I did. I turned on my heel and sprinted and sprinted as fast as I possibly could, the thick soles of my Doc Martens boots thudding against the concrete. I could hear Dad running after me, and the mugger cursing on the ground, followed by a shouted curse. Oh shit, he was angry. Really angry._

_I heard the scuffling of him standing up, then, without warning, the sound of a shot being fired. Everything happened in slow motion after that. _

_I turned back around just in time to see the bullet penetrate my father's skull, to hear the sound of it splintering the bone. Brain matter and blood burst out everywhere, spraying on the two walls of the alleyway and all over my face. It was hot, and it was sticky, and it smelt like rust._

"_DADDY!" I screamed, now officially beginning to cry. "DADDY, NO!"_

"_Oh, fuck!" the mugger cried out, pushing past me and running off into the night. _

_I collapsed to the ground, ignoring the gravel biting into my bare knees. I crawled over to Dad and leaned my head on his unmoving chest, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. "Daddy, please wake up! Daddy, please! Daddy, don't go! I need you!"_

_I knew it was futile. Most of Dad's head had been blown off, taking practically all of his brain with it. I didn't look at that, though. I didn't want the image tainting me for the rest of my life. Oh, who the fuck was I kidding?! I'd just seen my Dad get his head blown off. Like that wouldn't fuck me up completely._

"_Daddy," I whispered, closing my eyes and breaking down completely,_

* * *

I didn't really see the point in it, personally, all that 'wanting to be a superhero' bullshit that was in all the comics I basically dedicated my life to. Anyone who tried to do it in real life would be dead faster than you could say "Holy death wish, Batman!"

I didn't see why all those rich-as-shit guys were so fascinated with dressing up like oversized condoms, going around their cities trying to do backflips off of buildings or flying around in their helicarriers, or driving around in their ridiculously suped-up sports cars.

I said all this, yet I still found myself wishing and wishing I could be like them. No, scratch that: wishing I could be one of them. I wanted to be a sassy as Catwoman, have all Batman's gadgets, be as smart as Oracle, come from another planet like the Green Lantern Corps, be as strong as The Hulk, have the spy skills of Black Widow, look as awesome with pink hair as Koriand'r. I know. Stupid, right?

My name is Valentina Thomas. Yes, I'm being serious. No, my parents didn't name me after the Valentino perfume, smartass. You think I haven't heard that one before? Because I have. Douchebag.

Urgh, sorry. I made a promise to my dad not too long before he died that I'd stop being so sharp and shitty to people. As you can probably tell, it ain't goin' so well. He died three years ago, when I was fourteen, and left me alone to fend for myself with my drunken douche of a mother.

But I don't really need to bore you with the sob story of poor little Valley who watched her Dad get shot in the head during a mugging gone wrong, of poor little Valley who was left to pick up the pieces of her shattered life with her Mom rapidly drinking her life away in the background.

Yeah, I'm more than aware that's basically the same as every other fucking superhero origin story out there. You don't gots to tell me. I'm basically the motherfucking female Bruce Wayne. Except, you know, still with a mom. And not rich. And a hell of a lot more messed up.

I've been in therapy for the better a year and a half. In a rare moment of soberness, Mom booked me into bereavement counselling when I started being depressed and getting into fights and just generally turned into a complete cock. Because I'd seen Dad get shot, it fucked me up royally.

The sound of the bullet cracking his skull, the blood and brains splattering all over the wall and my face, the sight of his almost-headless body slumping to the floor would haunt me for the rest of my life. I knew this, Mom knew this, and that was why I was shoved into therapy along with everything else.

My old psychiatrist, Dr Phillips, suggested I take up some kind of exercise or whatever to 'force out all that negative energy you're so desperately clinging to', like I _wanted _to feel like this all the time. Bitch. When I pointed out that I'd been doing Gymnastics since I was six and karate since I was nine, she still insisted on me taking up some new hobby, so on top of two nights of Gymnastics and two nights of karate a week, I also started taking kickboxing two nights a week too, leaving just one night free.

I'd been out of therapy now for just over three months, but I carried on with the Gymnastics and the karate and the kickboxing. They gave me a sense of purpose, a sense of being. I'd been a black belt in karate for nearly a year now, so there was no way in Hell that I'd give that up, and I was a blue/brown belt in kickboxing too.

They weren't the only things in my life that had meaning though. I'd gotten through a lot of the past few years with the help of my best friends Dave, Marty and Todd. We'd been best friends since elementary school, and they were really the three people that had stopped me going completely off my nut after Dad died.

Sure, I had other friends too- well, I say friends. Acquaintances, really- but those three were the only ones that really _meant _something to me. A lot of people at school seemed to think it was weird that I had three dude best friends opposed to girl friends. But truth be told, I'd never really been one for the whole sugar-coated girly-girly shit other females my age seemed to be into. I'd rather spend my evenings watching _Smallville _or _Star Trek _than _Keeping Up With The Kardashians _or _Jersey Shore_. And as for One Direction…_hell _to the no! Give me Paramore any day. And no, I wasn't a lesbian either.

I guess all the proper crazy shit in my life started one day when the four of us were chilling out at the local comic-book-store-cross-coffee-shop, Atomic Comics. It was your average after-school nerd hang out, where you could go and grab the latest issue of _Spider-Man _and treat yourself to a good cappuccino, and that was exactly what we'd done.

As I sipped my cappuccino and flicked through my newly purchased _The New 52: Harley Quinn _comic, I could hear Marty, Todd and Dave warbling on about something that my brain must have deemed unimportant, as I really was not listening.

I started tuning into their conversation when Dave asked, "How come nobody's ever tried to be a superhero?"

"Well, I don't know. Probably 'cause it's fucking impossible, dipshit," replied Marty, not bothering to look up from his comic.

"I second that," I piped up, putting my comic down.

"What, putting on a mask and helping people? How is that impossible?" Dave insisted.

"Well, that's not superhero, though," pointed out Todd. "How is that super? Super's like being stronger than everybody and flying and shit. That's just hero."

"No, it's not even hero," said Marty. "It's just fucking psycho."

"It's a goddamn suicide wish, that's what it is," I added, raising my eyebrows at Dave.

"Hello, Bruce Wayne!?" Dave said like it was obvious. "He didn't have any powers!"

"No, but he was fucking _loaded_," I said.

"So?"

"So he had all the expensive shit that doesn't exist," put in Todd. "I thought you meant, like, how come nobody does it in real life?"

"Yeah Todd, that's what I meant," said Dave, starting to sound vaguely exasperated.

"Dude, if anybody did it in real life, they'd get their ass kicked," Marty informed him. "They'd be dead in like, a day."

"And even _that's _at a stretch," I said. "Anyone did it properly I'd give them exactly three hours before they ended up either with their head or teeth kicked in and out."

"Yeah, okay, I'm not saying they _should _do it," said Dave. "I just can't figure out why nobody does. Seriously, out of all the millions of people who love superheroes, you'd think one would give it a try. Jesus, guys, does it not bug you?"

"And we come straight back to the scenario of 'dead in a day'," I said, knocking Dave lightly on the top of the head with my fist. "Think these things through, Dave."

"Lay off, Valentina," he said irritably, brush my hand away. "Like, thousands of people wanna be Paris Hilton and no one wants to be Spider-Man?"

"Yeah, what's with that?" Marty asked almost philosophically, finally putting down his comic. "She has, like, no tits at all."

"Maybe it's the porn tape," suggested Todd. "He doesn't have a porn tape."

"You guys never saw _One Night in Spider-Man_?" sniggered Marty.

"Funnily enough, no," I shot back. "And if it makes you feel any better, Davey Boy, I'd so much rather Spider-Man than Paris Hilton. Well, technically Spider-Girl, but you get the idea."

"Oooh, guess who?" Todd suddenly twittered, looking out the window as a sleek black car pulled up. All of us were blatantly staring as the door to said car opened and a boy about our age stepped out. He had short black hair, pale skin and quite a cute face. Chris D'Amico.

Chris was in our grade at school, but he didn't have any friends. Like, at all. He was basically the richest kid in New York City because his dad was like some big hot-shot with his own lumber business or some shit like that. Because of this, Chris always had a big-ass bodyguard with him who basically didn't allow _anybody _within five feet of the boy. I felt awful for him, as from what I could tell, he was a nice enough person. And cute. Very cute.

"Is it just me, or do you kind of feel sorry for Chris D'Amico?" Dave asked quietly as we all turned away from the window to avoid been caught gawking.

I was about to agree when Marty sarcastically cut across me with, "Yeah, it must be terrible to have a rich dad and everything you want. I wish you hadn't said anything 'cause I feel like I'm gonna start crying." The door to the comic book shop opened and Chris entered with his bodyguard, who had one of those faces that was permanently set in a menacing expression.

"You're such a dick, Marty," I said scornfully as we dropped our eyes to the table when Chris walked past. "He's always on his own. It must be horrible to have no friends."

"We should, like, talk to him," whispered Todd. "See if he wants to hang out with us."

"I didn't say we should talk to him," said Dave, backtracking quite a lot. "I just-"

"Think about it!" interrupted Todd. "Come on, it'd be awesome! If he was our friend, no one would ever fuck with us again."

"Fuck with you," I corrected. "Nobody fucks with me as it is."

"Only because they know you could snap their spine with two kicks if you wanted to," muttered Marty, just loud enough for me to hear.

I scowled at him before saying, "Besides, that's a really shitty reason to befriend someone, Todd; just so you won't get wedgied anymore."

"Yeah, go on then, Todd. You wanna-?" Marty suggested mockingly, pointing over at Chris. "I can get up."

"No, no!" Todd said quickly.

"You wanna go talk to him?" Marty carried on, making to get up. "I can move."

"Valley and Dave should go," Todd quickly advocated.

"Valley…Valley and Dave _should _go," agreed Marty, and both of them looked at us with really slappable smiles on their faces.

"Okay, what?" I said.

"Why?!" asked Dave.

"Yeah, you two should totally go," said Todd.

"Go," added Marty, and I kicked him in the shin under the table. "Fuck, Valley!"

"Eat a dick, both of you," I spat at them, standing up and adjusting my denim shorts.

"You too, Dave," Marty said, still grinning like an idiot. "Don't be afraid."

"You're a pussy," Dave told them, also standing up.

"I'm actually going to kill them," I muttered to Dave as we slowly wandered in Chris' direction. He must have heard our footsteps as we approached, because he looked up and gave us a hesitant, almost disbelieving smile. I opened my mouth to say hello or something, but before I got the chance to…

"Fuck off," his bodyguard said threateningly, causing both Dave and I to completely freeze in our tracks. I saw Dave turn around slightly to look at Marty and Todd, but my eyes skittered past the bodyguard and rested on Chris, who looked disheartened that this prick had stopped someone talking to him_ again_. I smiled shyly at him, and he smiled back, so I mouthed "_Hi_," at him, when I felt Dave grab my arm and drag me back to a laughing Marty and Todd.

After grabbing our comics we quickly vacated the shop, Todd and Marty _still _laughing at Dave and I.

"Did you two spray anything over there?" snorted Marty.

"Yeah! I think I might have just shat in my pants a little!" Dave said, sounding scared out of his wits.

"What about you, Valley?"

I shrugged. "Meh. That bodyguard of his seemed like a right cock, but Chris himself seemed nice."

"How could you tell that? He didn't even say anything!" said Dave.

"I don't know, there was just something about him…" I trailed off, remembering Chris' adorable smile when he'd realised we were going to try to talk to him.

"Oooh, Valley's got her dreamy face on!" taunted Marty. "I think she's in _looovee._"

"I think you need to shut the fuck up before I sneak into your house in the middle of the night and cut your dick off with a blunt razor," I shot back calmly, but I was blushing, and I realised how freaking obvious that probably seemed. I didn't have a crush on Chris or anything, I just thought he was cute. At least, I didn't _think _I had a crush on Chris… No, of course I didn't. I barely knew Chris. I don't think I'd said more than five words to the boy in my life.

"Chill out, dude," he retorted. "You've got that psycho look in your eye. Anyway, I've gotta bounce. See ya."

"See ya," Dave, Todd and I called after his retreating figure, the three of us walking off in the other direction.

"If that guy would have spoken to me like that, I would have kicked his ass," Todd informed us as we crossed the road, and I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing.

"Oh yeah, right. 'Course you would, Todd," I snickered.

"When have you ever kicked anyone's ass?" asked Dave.

"Whatever, man," Todd said flippantly. "I woulda just gone for his knees."

"Why the knees?" I enquired.

"Yeah, you're not making sense," said Dave as we wandered through one of the back alley parking lots. I tried to avoid back alleys as much as possible- too many painful memories- but this way was the quickest route home, and I was tired from school.

"What I'm saying is the centrifugal force of Batman's Batarang would undoubtedly penetrate the Joker's force field leaving him totally vulnerable to-"

"I'm failing to see how this has _anything _to do with taking out someone's knees," I interjected.

"No, what I mean is-"

"Woah, woah, woah," came a sudden male voice in front of us. "Pussy patrol." Ah, just on time, as usual. Two of the resident thug-heads were slowing down in front of us, forcing the three of us to stop.

"Fuck," groaned Todd.

"Nice bit of non-sexist stereotyping there, boys," I said derisively, folding my arms.

"Phones, money," one of the thugs ordered us.

"Dude, not again. Come on," said Todd exasperatedly, while Dave emptied out his pockets in a flash. Todd then thumped his own wallet into the thug's hand.

"Phone?" the fair one said.

"I don't have one," Todd snapped. "Someone else jacked it last week."

"Pussy," said the darker one contemptuously.

"Gimme the bag," the other one commanded of him.

"It's just comics," Todd shot back.

"Yo, you wanna get cut?" retorted the dark one, and Todd handed over his Atomic Comics bag.

"What about you, hot stuff?" the other one said to me.

"Because that's not chauvinist at all," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "I don't have a phone or a wallet. Left them at home, thank God. Fate clearly knew I'd run into you asswipes." Okay, so this wasn't all true. No, I didn't have my wallet, but I did have my iPhone, which, thank fuck, I'd put in my bra for reasons unknown, leaving it concealed from sight.

The two of them scowled at me, then suddenly both turned to look up at something. I turned too, and saw that they, along with Dave and Todd, were all staring at some guy who was just standing at his window, watching this underhanded mugging go on and doing jack shit about it, before he drew the curtains.

That was what I really hated about this city. Nobody ever helped anyone other than themselves. They were either too selfish, too arrogant, or too scared. And it made me so _mad_.

Still, the thugs appeared to have half a brain in their thick skulls as they left us alone after that, pushing their way past us so violently that Dave, Todd and I all crashed together and knocked heads quite hard. Shit, there was gonna be a bruise there tomorrow.

"Did you see that asshole just watching us through his window?" Dave asked me once we'd ditched Todd at the corner of his street and carried on to ours.

"How could I fail to?" I said. "You lot were all staring at him like he was fucking Santa Claus or something. You weren't exactly being what is known as 'subtle', my friend."

"But doesn't it make you _angry_?" he posed. "That people just stand and stare and don't do anything to help anyone?"

"Dude, we've been robbed fuck knows how many times," I pointed out. "And we've been helped, what, _never_? Why is this only now really bugging you?"

"I don't know…I just don't see why a normal person can't try to make the world a better place," he replied.

"Oh yeah, like who? _You_?"

"Yeah, maybe!"

"Oh sweet Jesus, I think the run-in with those dicks has scared you so much you've gone feverish." I pressed my hand to his forehead like I was checking for a high temperature. "You ain't making no sense."

"I am, and you know it," he said, taking my wrist and moving my arm away. "Why should heroes only exist in comics? Why can't we do it?"

"_We_?!" I repeated incredulously. "You damn well better not be about to say what I think you're gonna say."

"Valley, I think we should try to be superheroes!" he announced.

"Dave, dude, do you _hear _yourself? I think you've gone categorically, irrevocably, entirely bat-shit crazy. Like hell am I doing that!"

"Why not? Don't you want to change things around here?" he demanded.

"Not really! If I did, I'd call the cops more often!" By now we'd reached the front door of my house, and I fumbled in my pocket for my key. "You coming in for a minute? Didn't you say you wanted to borrow my copy of _Batman Returns_?"

"Yeah, sure," he muttered. I'd offended him, I could tell. "Is your mom gonna be home?"

"Doubt it," I said contemptuously. "It's, what, coming up for five thirty? She usually goes out at about five. So no, I seriously don't think she's here. Why?"

"I just think gets a little…awkward," he admitted. "When you and her start arguing."

"It's not my fault she can't stop drinking and getting high long enough for us to have a normal conversation!" I snapped, my temper flaring up automatically.

"I'm not saying it is," he said quickly. "Relax. I just mean that it gets a bit uncomfortable watching you scream at each other."

"Try living with it," I muttered, pushing open the front door. "Still, I'll check anyway. Mom!" I called. "Mom, you home?" There was no reply. "See?" I said to Dave, dumping my backpack by the shoe rack.

"Right. Okay then," he said, also putting down his backpack. "Where's the DVD?"

"Living room," I replied. "Top shelf of the bookshelf." I pushed the door to the living room. "I'm pretty sure I left it next to my copy of…" I tailed off, taking in the sight of the living room. Then I let out a single piercing scream.

Mom was lying on the sofa. No, not lying. Collapsed. Her eyes were half-closed, her mouth agape. She wasn't moving, at all. I stared and stared at her chest, willing it to move, to indicate in some way that she was still breathing. But there was nothing. So I screamed again, a scream that I couldn't stop, no matter how much I tried to.

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" cried Dave, running into the room and grabbing hold of me to look in my eyes, not seeing what I was seeing. "Valley?" I just kept screaming. "Valentina!" He shook me a couple of times to snap me out of it.

"Mom!" I screeched, finally able to find my voice. "My mom!" I pulled away from Dave and stumbled over to her, grabbing hold of her arm and pressing frantically at her wrist, trying to find even a flickering of a pulse. But I got nothing. Not one little beat. That was when I saw the empty syringe lying next to the sofa, just inches from where Mom's lifeless hand had been before I'd grabbed her arm. _Oh no_…

* * *

"_Mama never set a good example,  
Daddy never held Mama's hand.  
Mama found everything hard to handle,  
Daddy never stood up like a man.  
I've walked around, broken,  
Emotionally frozen._"  
**-Porcelain Black, "How Do You Love Someone"**

* * *

**A/N- So what did you think? I really hope you liked it. As I said before, yes, I am setting this throughout the first movie, but I'll be incorporating my own ideas too. How did you like Valentina as well, just as a question between friends? As for the random song lyrics: I like to set my work to music, and I like to finish each chapter with a few relevant lyrics.  
So let me know! Revieeeew, guys! They make me so happy! Xx Gee xX**

**PS- Are there any **_**Misfits **_**fans out there? I'm also writing my own Nathan/OC fic called **_**The Art Of Abnormality**_**. Check it out if you have the time!**


	2. A Little Push

**A/N- Wow, follows and favourites this early in a story? Am I shocked? Slightly, yes. But it's a joyful, happy, yaaaaay kinda shocked. Which is a good thing. Even more awesome is, I've already got my first reviews! Thanks so much, MMPRFansince93 and Guest! You guys rock!**

* * *

**Chapter Two- A Little Push**

I didn't know why I had been crying for this long, to be honest. It's not like Mom had ever cared about me that much. Dad had always been the parent that had looked after me, who had always told me he loved me, that he was proud of me. I could probably count on both hands the amount of times Mom had said told me she loved me.

And yet here I was, an hour and a half after our initial discovery of Mom on the sofa, curled up in the foetal position on Dave's bed, just sobbing my heart out. Mom was dead. She was gone. Both my parents were dead within three years of each other. I was basically an orphan. Seventeen, and an orphan.

Dave had been the one who had taken control of the situation. He'd been the one to put Mom in the recovery position. He'd been the one to call the ambulance. He'd been the one to try to give Mom CPR until they arrived while I sat in the corner and wept because I knew there was no point. I hadn't been able to find a pulse anywhere, not even a tiny flicker of one.

The ambulance had arrived about twenty minutes after Dave had called them. They came barrelling in through the front door with the stretcher and breathing apparatus and heart-shock thingies. But it was no use. For five minutes they tried to restart Mom's heart, but they got nothing. She was pronounced dead then and there.

They still took her body, though, because they needed to do a post-mortem to determine what had caused her death. I screamed at them then, because wasn't it obvious? An empty syringe had been found next to her with traces of heroin in it. That, and everyone knew that Mom had been a junkie since Dad died. It was only a matter of time before the abuse caught up to her.

"How are you feeling?" Dave asked me now, sitting down next to my inert figure. It was just as a formality. Social etiquette and all that. He thought he knew how I was feeling, on account of him having lost his mom a year or so earlier.

"I'll be okay," I sniffed, turning and shifting myself into a sitting position with my knees brought up to my chin. "I'll just need some time."

"You don't need to pretend to be alright," he said gently, putting a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"I'm not pretending," I said. "Let's be honest here. Mom dying isn't gonna have that big an impact on my life, is it? She was always practically unconscious when I got up to go to school and had always pissed off somewhere when I got home. She never told me she loved me, never showed me any form of affection. Big fucking whoop. Yeah, okay, so she was my mom, but in the grand scheme of things the only problem I really have with all this is that I have nowhere to live because I can't pay the bills."

"Actually, you do have somewhere," he told me. I looked at him curiously. "I spoke to Dad," he explained, "and he said it's cool for you to crash here for as long as you want."

"What? Are you being serious?" I squealed, hardly daring to believe my luck. I'd gotten it into my head that yeah, I'd have been able to live in my house for a while, but when the rent came around I'd have to leave and end up on the streets. This was why I could hardly comprehend what Dave was saying.

"Yeah, why's that so hard to believe?" he said with a smile. "You're one of my best friends, Valley, and Dad loves you."

This was true. Dave and I had been friends for about twelve years now, ever since we'd met in first grade. Up till Dad died, I used to go around Dave's every day after school because Mom was always inebriated (it really was public knowledge) and Dad didn't get home from work until seven. I was so comfortable around Dave's father, I sometimes even called him 'Dad'.

"Be that as it may," I said. "It's just…I may be here a while, y'know? It's not like I have any qualifications to get a job. Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"I've got a camp bed under here," Dave replied, gesturing under the bed.

"Awesome. Have fun sleeping on it," I said with a grin, rolling onto my front and closing my eyes.

"See. You're getting better already," Dave pointed out, lying down next to me. "You've taken this better than...than when…" he trailed off, but I knew what he meant.

"Than when Dad died?" I supplied, and he nodded. "That's probably because I loved my dad. I haven't loved my mom for a long time now. I know that sounds harsh, given what's just happened, but it's true. I'll miss her so much- of course I will- but maybe…maybe it's better this way. I'm free from the worry. I can do what I want."

"Okay, now you're starting to sound a little bit insane," Dave said worriedly, peering at me anxiously. "I think the grief is getting to you."

"No, really, I'm _fine_," I insisted, sitting up and wiping my eyes on my hand, leaving black smears from my eye make-up streaking my skin. "Please believe that."

There was a silence. I could practically hear the cogs in Dave's brain grinding away ,trying to work out if I was actually alright, or if _I _was the one who had gone bat-shit crazy. "Okay. I do," he finally relented.

"Thank you," I said, my voice small. Then I took a deep breath. I didn't know whether what I was about to say was me acting on impulse via the situation, or whether I really was going crazy from suppressed grief, but what the fuck, I was gonna say it anyway. "Dave, I think you're right. We do need to make a change. I think we should do it."

"Do what?"

"Oh my God, really? The superhero thing! We can be heroes!"

* * *

Pink and black. Of all the colour schemes in the world, I picked pink and black. Why? My reasoning was simple. Black had been Dad's favourite colour, and Mom had held a soft spot for pink, as did I.

Dave had seemed, to put it lightly, totally taken aback that I had agreed to do the superhero thing. By 'taken aback' I mean he fell backwards off the bed because he was so shocked. He soon recovered though, insisting on the two of us sitting down and discussing 'tactics' for about two goddamn hours.

We both agreed not to mention anything to Dave's dad, or to Todd or Marty. It would be too dangerous. If- no, sorry, _when _we became proper hardcore superheroes, the first people the bad guys targeted were the hero's family and friends. It was common knowledge. And though there weren't really superheroes (yet), there definitely _were _real bad guys. We lived in New York, for Christ's sake, home of mobsters and gangs and drug dealers and mafia organisations.

But it was now the night after the evening before (not in that way, pervert!), and even with time to think about it and rethink it and rethink it again, we both had decided it was still a good idea to become superheroes. We were scrolling through various clothing websites to find costumes. We had approximately just over an hour or so until we were supposed to meet Todd and Marty to go see some kinda ghost movie sequel at the cinema.

"A wetsuit?" I said doubtfully, looking over Dave's shoulder at the Amazon page he was looking at on his computer. "You want to fight crime wearing a _wetsuit_?"

"What's the problem with that?"

"Anything and everything. Nobody, and I mean _nobody _looks good in a wetsuit."

"I like it. I think it'll work," he said defensively, clicking on 'add to shopping cart' along with the batons he'd decided would be his choice weapon.

"Suit yourself then," I said indifferently. "Have you thought of a name at all?"

"Not really. I've got like words kicking around in my head, but I don't know how to fit them together to make a name, if that makes sense," he explained. "Why, have you?"

"I think so. Yeah…" I shook my wavy hair back over shoulders. "I'm gonna be Sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" Dave raised his eyebrows, but he didn't sound condescending or derisive. "Why Sweetheart?"

"It's like the pink and black thing. Remembrance." I shrugged. "Dad, and even Mom to a degree, would always call me their little sweetheart if they were proud of me. I want them to be proud of me for doing this, if they're watching me up there."

Dave stood up, pulling me into a tight bear hug. "Of course they are. Your dad and your mom and my mom. They'll be watching."

"Yeah. They will. We're doing this for them. Er…in a way. Let's rip this city a new asshole!" I said determinedly. "Sweetheart and…um, whoever the hell you decide to be!" Ah, hyperactivity. How I had missed thee.

"Wow," was all Dave said, looking at me with a vaguely disturbed look. "Alright then. Do you want to have a look for a costume?"

"Yeah, I sure do. But I'm not wearing an all-in-one, I'll tell you now. So move it," I said, and I teasingly shoved him off of his chair.

"Hey, I haven't ordered that yet!" he protested, jabbing me in the shoulder.

"Oh, waah. Cool your shit, Davey; I'll do it," I said, doing just that before pulling up the women's clothes section of Amazon. "Hmm. I think I'll get me some cute leggings. Girl superheroes always wear leggings."

It took me half an hour to decide. It doesn't sound like long, but trust me, after humming and harring over just two pairs of shoes for ten minutes, it begins to feel like eternity.

"What d'you think?" I asked Dave, showing him my 'shopping cart' full of clothes. While Dave had gone for function over fashion with his costume, I had decided to smush together every clichéd female superhero costume to create one outfit of fabulousness.

Going with the Sweetheart thing, I'd picked a pink top nipped in at the waist with a peplum bottom that was decorated with black hearts and had long silver mesh sleeves. I'd then chosen some black PVC leggings with lace detailing, a pair of black thick high-heeled ankle boots, a long anime-style wig that was split pink and black, a pair of fingerless pink and black gloves and a pink and black decorated Mardi Gras-type mask. I'd also chucked in a pink and black baseball bat too, just because it looked like a fun weapon. In short, I'd look freaking sexy. It also came to less than a hundred and fifty dollars, which was a bonus.

"It looks very…feminine," was all he said.

"That's the idea. Femininity is a key aspect of being a woman, funnily enough," I said dryly, finishing up my order and closing down the computer. "Just out of curiosity, won't your dad find it more than a little weird that all this stuff is arriving on his doorstep?"

"Probably," he admitted. "If we just tell him it's school stuff, he won't question it all that much."

"Very well then," I said. I consulted my watch. "Oh, shitmuffins! We are gonna be so _late_! We're supposed to be meeting Todd and Marty in like fifteen minutes and I still need to get ready!"

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?" Dave asked.

"Wow, seriously?" I looked at the yoga pants I was wearing, then up at Dave. "You have literally no idea what it means to be a girl. Give me five minutes, and I'll be ready." Dave nodded, but made no indication that he was going to move. "Dave! Get out! NOW!"

* * *

Why. That was the question I was asking myself now. _Why _did I agree that it would be a good idea to go and see _The Spirit 3_?! I hated horror movies, I hated ghost movies, I hated the first two _Spirit _movies! There had been literally no point in me sitting through the last two hours of jump-scares and creepy music.

"I hate you guys. Really, I do," I grumbled. "Of all the movies we coulda seen, and you picked that one!" My Brooklyn accent always seemed more pronounced when I was irritated. "That was worse than when we snuck in to see _Saw: The Final Chapter _last month! _I _wanted to see that new romantic comedy with Cameron Diaz in it, but _oh no_, we can't have Valley's choice! Let's all go watch the movie that'll make her shit in her shorts!"

"You're not wearing shorts," Todd pointed out unhelpfully, gesturing at my skirt and lace tights.

"Todd, you are looking for me to kick you in places that should never be kicked," I warned him. "And by 'places' I mean right in the balls."

"Ease up, Valley," said Marty, while Todd's face had paled significantly.

"Sorry, sorry," I said quickly. "I'm just feeling seriously on edge at the minute because…"

"Because of yesterday," Dave finished quickly. I raised my eyebrows at him. I wasn't so stupid that I'd reveal our plans this early. And by early I mean literally twenty-four hours after the initial planning.

"Oh right. A fuck load of people are surprised you were in school today," said Marty as what I assumed was meant to be a passing comment.

"Why?" I said. "Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows that Mom was an alcoholic and a druggy. Everyone knew I basically lived by myself anyway. And everyone knew Mom didn't love me. Ergo, why would her dying affect me all that much?"

"Nobody thinks you could be that fucking heartless," Marty replied.

"Oh, well, I can," I said with a shrug. "It doesn't bother me if people do or don't think that."

"I gotta take a leak," Todd suddenly announced.

"Yeah, actually, me too," the other two said, making this officially a case of Too Much Information. The boys were like my brothers, they were; but sometimes there really were cases when I did not need to know their innermost functions. This was one of those cases.

"Nice. Well, whilst you three go and wazz, I'll wait for you outside," I said, already turning away from them. As I wandered at a leisurely pace in the general direction of the exit doors, my head was swimming with superhero ideas. I was good on the physical fitness side of things. I'd been taking gymnastics and karate for goddamn ten years, and kickboxing for three. I was a freaking fitness nut. Dave, on the other hand, tended to get out of breath walking up a tall flight of stairs.

I could train him. I could. Teach him some of the basic moves, at least within kickboxing and karate. It would be relatively easy, or at least I assumed it would be. As far as the flexibility, gymnastic-y side went, yeah, he was basically fucked. I'd basically manipulated my body to contort in all sorts of unnatural positions since childhood. That took some skills, and they weren't skills you could A) teach someone or B) teach someone over the course of a few weeks. Hmm, maybe he could start the same classes I was in. That'd be fun. I mean, obviously he'd start off as white belt in both…

I was so lost in thought that the next thing I registered was the spiky heel of my boots getting caught on a frayed patch of carpet. The ripped tendrils of carpeting had knotted around my heel, and as I tried to shake my shoe free, I totally lost my footing and went crashing headfirst into the nearest passer-by's chest. Whoever it was put their hands tightly on my upper arms to steady me, but the force I had fallen at had knocked my hair into my face, sticking it to my lipgloss.

"Oh, fuck me! I am so sorry!" I said rapidly, flicking my hair out of my face and looking up at my saviour. I found myself staring into the brown eyes of Chris D'Amico. "Oh, it's you," I stammered, probably sounding like I had a complete speech impediment. "Chris. Er…hiya."

"Hi," he said, looking curiously at me. "You're the girl from the comic book store."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's me," I said, my voice a couple of octaves higher than usual. _What the fuck_.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, his hands still on my arms.

"You go to Millard Fillmore High, right?" I said, even though I already knew. "Twelfth grade?" He nodded. "So do I. I'm Valentina, Valentina Thomas. More commonly known as Valley."

"Oh, you're in my English class," he said recognisably. "You sit a couple of seats in front of me." Huh, I'd never noticed that Chris had a little lisp before now. Then again, this was like the longest conversation we'd ever had. It was cute.

"That I do," I told him. "So…whatcha doing here?"

"Oh, just seeing a movie," he replied. Right. We were at a movie theatre, duh. "_The Spirit 3_."

"Oh, I just saw that," I said. "It was, er, good." I didn't want to crush his hopes. Assuming he liked horror movies, that was. "Who're you here with?"

"Oh, just my Dad," he answered, gesturing at a bald man in an orange shirt who was talking animatedly on his mobile, looking severely pissed off. "And, um…" He trailed off, looking at the built-like-a-brick-shithouse bodyguard who had told me and Dave to fuck off yesterday.

"Ah, Mr Public Relations," I said with a smirk. "Nice guy, him. I found his style of greeting particularly endearing." Chris started laughing at this, a cute yet boyish sound I hadn't expected him to make, so I laughed too. Or, more accurately, I let out my trademark little-girly giggle, which, coincidently, was the one noise no one expected me to make either.

"Valley!" I suddenly heard Dave's voice behind me, at the same time a male someone called out, "Chris! Christopher!"

"That's my friends," I said at the same time Chris said, "That's my dad." We both laughed again.

"So, um, Valentina. I mean, Valley," he said, both quickly and awkwardly, now actually releasing my arms. "Um…do you maybe…um, want to go out some time? Maybe…I don't know, see a movie together? Or something?"

"Yeah," I said, equally as awkwardly. I'd never been asked out by a boy before, aside from in fifth grade when Todd had been convinced he was in love with me, but, er…we, um, we don't really like to talk about that. "Yeah," I said again. "I'd love to."

"Valley!" I heard Dave call again. I turned my head and saw him and Marty and Todd weaving through the crowd towards us.

"Do you want to swap numbers?" I asked him shyly. "So we can, like, sort out a date and stuff?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, pulling an iPhone (naturally. What else would the richest kid in New York have?) out of his pocket. I pulled out my battered old BlackBerry that I'd had for two and a half years, trying to cover the various scrapes on the _Keep Crazy and Call Joker _casing. It only took a minute or so for us to exchange numbers, just as Dave called my name for the third time, and also as Chris' father called him over again.

"I should go. Bye, Valley," Chris said.

"Yeah, text me some time soon. See you, Chris," I replied. He somewhat formally shook my hand before hurrying off to his Dad.

"Were you talking to Chris D'Amico?" Dave asked curiously as the four of us managed to actually leave the cinema, fifteen minutes later than planned.

"Er, yeah," I said, trying and failing to keep a huge grin off my face. "Yeah, I was."

"Why?" Marty said bluntly. Jeez, talk about direct.

"Long story cut very, very short, I stumbled over a bit of uneven carpet, tripped headfirst into Chris, we got talking, he asked me if I wanted to go on a date sometime, I said yes, we swapped numbers and bada bing, bada boom," I explained.

"A date?" repeated Marty.

"Yeah, Marty, a date," I said frustratedly. "You know, when a girl and a boy go out together and have a good time. I know that concept is extremely new to you, but surely you must have heard of it."

"Meow," Todd mewled infuriatingly, so I kicked him in the shin.

"How did he ask you on a date?" Marty continued. "I mean, surely that meant that security guard of him had to actually let him out of his sight?"

"Shut up! He was with his dad, but his dad was on a phone call!" I shouted, my face flaming. "Leave him alone! You guys don't even know him!"

"Neither do you," said Dave. "Not really."

"And that's the point of going out with someone!" I was literally _this close _to exploding now. "To get to know them! Jesus Christ, you guys, why can't you just be happy for me?!"

"Because it's weird?" suggested Marty.

I scowled at him. "I'm a black belt, Marty. Just remember that, because I will not hesitate to drop-kick you in public."

* * *

Returning home from school the next day, Dave and I each discovered a large cardboard box on our beds. We both looked at each other in excitement and practically hurled ourselves at the boxes. My camp bed groaned loudly in protest as I landed on it, but I was so incited that I didn't really notice. I was like a kid on Christmas morning.

I tore through the plastic wrapping coating the box using my long nails easily, then ripped away at the opening of the cardboard box until it looked like a particularly ravenous hamster had been at it. I pulled out what felt like item after item, until all the components of my costume were lying at haphazard angles on my mattress.

"Wow," I breathed, running my hand over the material of my new top. This was the beginning. "Dave, check it- what the fuck." I didn't even voice it as a question.

Dave was holding up what was essentially green and yellow long underwear. I don't even think it should have been classed as a wetsuit. It really did look Spandex long johns.

"It'll look cooler when it's on!" he said defensively.

"I highly doubt that, but I guess we'll see," I said, slightly pursing my lips in qualm. "Let's try these bad boys on. I'll change in the bathroom."

About five minutes later, I was staring at myself in the full length mirror in said bathroom. I looked- there was no other way to put it- totally fucking amazing. The leggings and peplum top clung to every curve I possessed in the most flattering way. The shoes were easy to walk in because the sole and heels were so thick, and the mask and gloves looked awesome too. The only problem was the wig. The full bangs it had got really in my eyes, so I had to hack at it with a pair of nail scissors until it sat (albeit raggedly) on my eyebrows.

In a word: hot.

I unlocked the bathroom and skittered my way across the hallway, trying to be quiet as quiet as possible so not to alert Mr Lizewski, as I didn't exactly want him to see me dressed as what to him would look like a particularly colourful anime character.

"Dave, you better be dressed!" I hissed at the bedroom door, knocking a couple of times.

"Yeah, I'm done," came his reply, muffled by the closed door, so I quickly opened it and practically jumped inside, shutting the door firmly behind me.

"Okay, what are you doing." Again, I didn't even bother voicing it as a question. Dave was dressed in his new costume and, yes, while it most certainly did look better on, he was pulling the most ridiculous pose with his batons in his hands.

"Just…trying stuff out," he said sheepishly, and I got the very strong feeling that he'd been practicing more of those poses while I'd been getting changed.

"So, whatcha think?" I asked, spinning around in a circle. "Do I look good?"

"Hell yeah," he exclaimed. "Seriously epic."

"This is the single greatest thing I think I've ever decided to do," I proclaimed, now admiring myself in Dave's full length mirror on the door, posing with my baseball bat in what I hoped was an intimidating position. It failed quite a lot.

"_We've _decided," Dave corrected, but he was smiling at me in the reflection. "We are fucking awesome!"

"Fucking awesome?" I repeated. " Dude, we're so much more than that. We're fucking superheroes! We are gonna kick _ass_!" I dropped my baseball bat and performed what was supposed to be a practice front leg kick, but I misjudged my angle. Instead of kicking thin air, my foot in its clunky boot collided with the mirror, instantly shattering it. Fuck.

* * *

"_It all started when I lost my mother.  
No love for myself and no love for another.  
Searching, to find a love upon a higher level,  
Finding, nothing but questions and devils._"  
**-Papa Roach, "Last Resort"**

* * *

**A/N- I just wanna clear a couple of things up to avoid any confusion. This **_**will **_**eventually become a Chris/Valley romantic pairing, and yes, before anyone asks, this is only set in the movieverse. If I'm being brutally and 100% honest, I haven't actually read the comics *guilty face* But don't be discouraged by that! I'm still hoping I can write a good movieverse fic! So yeah, we got chapter two up and running! How'd ya like it? I know Valley probably appeared really heartless over her mother's death, but, as what will be revealed in later chapters, her mum really was awful to her. So let me know what y'all thought; reviews are always fun to read! Xx Gee xX**


	3. First Dates and Flashbacks

**A/N- Now that Valley's superhero name and costume have been revealed, I've put a link to what her costume looks like on my profile! Check it out, it's pretty cool, if I do say so myself. Thanks to MMPRFansince93 and casper6six6 for reviewing!**

* * *

**Chapter Three- First Dates and Flashbacks**

"Come on, Valentina, focus!" my in-school kickboxing instructor, Mark, ordered. "Left hook, right hook, left hook! Come _on_!"

"I'm sorry, I'm trying!" I snapped, throwing the appropriate punches at the punching bag, but I was only doing it half-heartedly. I was so distracted, which really wasn't helpful since the main reason I was now carrying on with all the extra-curricular sports stuff was so I'd be in top shape for fighting crime.

It was normal for me to have my karate or kickboxing or Gymnastics classes in school. It had been on doctor's orders since I first started therapy that I skip out my study halls and take the sports options instead. I didn't complain- I hated sitting in a stuffy, silent room trying to cram for a Biology pop quiz that may or may not happen.

"Okay, that was fine. Now try to execute two roundhouse kicks and go into a spinning back kick," he suggested, pursing his lips slightly, meaning he'd noticed how little effort I was putting in to today's lesson. I shook myself out and craned my neck from left to right, trying to psych myself up.

_Concentrate. If you're distracted by the simple prospect of training to become a superhero, then how the hell will you be able to focus when it comes to an actual fight_? I thought to myself, easing into the fight stance.

"Okay, three, two, one," he counted down for me. "Go!" I pulled off the roundhouses with next to no problem, but the second I tried to divert into the spinning back kick, my legs somehow tangled together. I stumbled violently, and hit the hard polished floor of the gym with a very painful thud.

"Holy fuck, that hurt," I groaned under my breath so Mark wouldn't hear me, pushing myself up into a sitting position and rubbing my shoulder, which had taken the full brunt of my falling weight.

"What's going on with you today, Valentina?" Mark asked snappishly, squatting down beside me as I probed my shoulder for any fractures or bruises. It seemed I'd only be treated to a very black bruise that was already beginning to form. "You're usually so on point with everything."

"Yeah, well, you'd probably be a bit distracted if your mom had died barely seven days," I bit out sullenly, standing up and dusting myself down. Mark faltered, standing up himself. He clearly had no idea what to say. It was extremely harsh of me to use Mom's death as an excuse for me fucking up my moves, but que sera sera. I didn't give a shit.

"How are you feeling?" Mark now asked, trying for a much gentler tone of voice. _No, no, no! Hell no! Don't try to pull all that fake sympathetic bullshit with me! _I internally begged. He wasn't even an actual school teacher, for crying out loud! He was just someone the school paid to teach me ways of self-defence and help me with my 'negative energy releases'. He had literally no reason to be worried about me!

"I'm feeling perfectly fine, thanks for asking" I said brusquely just as the bell for the end of the period rang. "Well, that's that. I'll see you next week."

"Have a good one, Valley." It sounded like a request, a thinly veiled attempt to tell me to get happy. Well I was. I was perfectly happy in my new motherless life, especially with my brand new calling to keep me occupied.

"Will do," I replied, grabbing my gym bag with my regular clothes in and heading to the girls' locker room. I had literally five minutes to shower and change before I was due to meet Dave et al for lunch. The locker room was empty on account of there being no gym classes in this period. I stripped out of my purple Lycra shorts and white sports bra-crop top and showered as hurriedly as I could, trying to tie haste and sanitary obligations into one massive speed-wash.

I dressed in my white shirt dress and black ankle boots and grabbed my bag, practically sprinting out of the locker room to what felt like the other side of the school to my locker where I was due to meet the others, when in actuality it was literally two corridors and a floor over. Dave, Marty and Todd were all waiting there for me, looking impatient.

"Where've you been?" Dave practically demanded, so I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Chill, man, my kickboxing lesson overran a bit is all," I said, raising my hands in a surrendering gesture before unlocking and opening my locker and throwing my gym bag.

"Right. Sorry, I forgot," he mumbled. "There's just something I wanted to show you." I looked at him and frowned enquiringly, so he surreptitiously mouthed "_superhero_," at me. I nodded equally as surreptitiously.

"Well, show it to me in homeroom," I suggested pointedly. "Let's get some snackage." As usual, the cafeteria was packed to near-bursting point, but the four of us managed to grab a table near the middle of the room, and we settled down with our trays of pizza, fries and Mountain Dew. The boys settled into a discussion of which comic they should buy that night- the new _Spider-Man _or the new _Batman_.

I reached into my backpack that I'd dumped on the floor and rummaged around until my fingers closed around my phone. I pulled it out and unlocked it, checking for any new Facebook or Twitter notifications. Instead I saw this.

_**One new message: Chris D'Amico  
**__Hi Valley, it's Chris. I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight? Do you want to catch a movie with me? X_

I let out a quiet squeal of delight- he'd actually texted me! I was surprised; not going to lie, I'd been expecting him to wuss out. Chris had probably had about as much female contact as I'd had male. IE, none. The only boys I'd ever been close to were the three dicks sitting at this table now arguing about whether Michelle Pfeiffer's Catwoman was hotter than Halle Berry's version, and if I was to begin a romantic attachment to any of them it would basically be incest.

I rushed to reply. _Hey. No, I'm not doing anything tonight and I'd love to see a movie. What kinda time did you have in mind? V x_

I got a near-instant answer. _I can pick you up at 8? What's your address? X_

_Well, I'm currently residing at my best friend Dave's place. The address is 221B Baker Street. Lol, no, I'm totally kidding. Sherlock reference. Love that show. Crap, I'm babbling even in a text. Sorry, I'll shut up now. Anyway, we live at 356 Maple Tree Street . Know where I'm talking about? V x_

_I think so. Isn't it about ten minutes away from school? X_

_That it is, Chris, that it is. So I'll see you then, yeah? 8 tonight at my place? Well now, doesn't that sound dirty. V x_

_OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SENT THAT. I'M SUCH A DICK! IGNORE THE LAST SENTENCE. PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE LAST SENTENCE! V x_

_Haha, you're funny. Yeah, I'll pick you up at 8 outside yours tonight. See you later. X_

"Whatcha grinning at, Vee?" I suddenly became aware of Marty's voice metaphorically poking me in the temple.

"Nothing!" I said quickly, slamming my phone facedown on the table and blushing furiously.

"Jesus Christ, are you allergic to something?" he snickered, clocking my redness basically immediately.

"What? No! I just…um…er…NOTHING!"

"What were you looking at?"

"Just, um, a picture on my phone," I mumbled. "It was about, um…the new Batman comic series. I got a little excited."

"Awesome!" exclaimed Todd. "Let me look!"

"No, wait!" I cried as he reached over and plucked my phone from my grasp. Marty leaned over to look at the phone too, and I buried my face in my hands. Any second now…

"Holy fuck," blew out Marty, laughing again, only this time it was a lot louder and more obvious. "You've agreed to actually go on a date with Rich Boy?"

"_Don't _call him that!" I shouted, but luckily no one nearby heard me over the racket of the cafeteria. "His name is _Chris_! And yeah, I've agreed to go on a date with him! Jesus, could you be more ostentatious about it? Shit me, man!"

"You're going on a date with Chris D'Amico?" Dave now chipped in. Oh great, it was officially Let's All Get Involved In Valentina's Love Life Day.

"For fuck sake, have we not yet established this? Yes, I am. Tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, David, tonight. He's picking me up eight. From yours, ours, whatever you want to call it."

"But what about the…" His voice diminished slowly, and he widened his eyes significantly at me. "Thing?"

"It's not going to take me the whole time from when we get home to the second I need to leave the get ready, is it?" I told him. "You can tell me when we get back." Jeez, what could be so important?

* * *

"Okay, check it out," Dave finally said to me a few hours later, when we were back home. Mr Lizewski was still at work, so Dave and I were sat in the living room, drinking sachet cappuccino in mugs since we'd rejected our usual after school trip to Atomic Comics and watching one of my DVDs of _Batman: The Animated Series_.

The living room was littered with five cardboard boxes of my things: two with clothes, one with DVDs, one with books and one with shoes. You had to literally weave your way through them to get to the sofa. We were in the process of turning the upstairs study into my bedroom, since it was becoming very, very clear that I was going to be here for a long time. Since Mom died- which was now a week ago- the social services had been getting involved with my guardianship, turning up on the doorstep every other day with various forms and whatnot, as I was under eighteen (since I'd only turned seventeen a month ago, I still had eleven months to go before it was even going to be considered that I live alone) and there were positive talks of Mr Lizewski possibly being allowed to adopt me if everything was cleared with the courts.

I had no living relatives- Mom and Dad had both been only children, I was an only child, and both sets of my grandparents had carked it when I was under the age of nine. I had no godparents either, meaning I was literally alone in the world when it came to family. So the responsibility of the rest of my upbringing was to be left to a, quote-unquote, 'trusted, reliable close friend of the family'. Well who better than my best friend's father that I'd known for the better part of twelve years?

But like I said, it all needed to be secured. Mr Lizewski needed to be cleared in that he didn't have a criminal record, interviewed to assess whether he was suitable. It would take a month or two, which was apparently relatively quick, but the courts and social services referred to it as a 'speed adoption' because I was a 'vulnerable individual who needed a sense of security in her life', whatever the fuck that meant. Yeah, I was messed up in the head slightly, but I'd kept that under control well over the last six or so months.

Either way, there was a possible time in the near future where my name would become Valentina Juliet Thomas-Lizewski, adoptive sister of my best friend. Hm, a little weird when I thought about it, but oh well. And ignore the fact my middle name is Juliet, my parents clearly had something about Italian names.

"Right then, hit me," I said as he rummaged around in his backpack, eventually pulling out his scrappy English notebook. "Great. So you want to discuss _Hamlet_? Not being funny Dave, but that's not really what I was thinking when you said you wanted to talk about the superhero stuff. Unless Hamlet's father was secretly Captain America, which I seriously doubt. Plus, I'm not even in your English class! My class is doing _A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

"What?" he said, looking at the cover of the notepad. "No, I wanted to show you this." He opened the book and flicked in a few pages to the middle and held it up to show me. On one of the pages Dave had drawn a picture of himself wearing his superhero costume, and next to it were written three names: _Bad Knight_, _Bad Ass _and _Kick-Ass_. It was _Kick-Ass _that had been underlined a few times.

"Is this gonna be your name?" I asked. "Kick-Ass?" He nodded enthusiastically. "Why Kick-Ass?"

"Something you said last night," he replied. "You said that we were gonna 'kick ass', so I figured, 'why not Kick-Ass?'." The way he was looking at me told me that he wanted confirmation.

"Hey man, whatever floats your boat," I told him. "Kick-Ass sounds pretty cool. Better than the other two. I mean seriously. _Bad Knight_? Why would you even consider that?"

"Dark Knight…Bad Ass…I don't know!" he said defensively. "I thought it sounded cool."

"No. It doesn't," I said firmly, drinking up the last of my cappuccino. "It's a death wish in a superhero name. Anyway, I'm heading upstairs. I need to start getting ready; it's only a few hours till Chris is supposed to arrive."

"And you need hours to get ready?" Dave asked sceptically.

I picked up one of the cardboard boxes with my clothes in. "Not exactly, but finding the perfect outfit for a first date can be murder."

* * *

Hot _dayum_. It was now seven fifty-two in the evening and I. Was. Look-ing. _Fine_. (insert Z formation click here) Well, you can't get much more egotistical than that, but what the fuck. It was true, and I deserved some positive thinking in my life.

I'd slipped on a pair of black skinny jeans, a black camisole patterned with red roses, a cropped black leather jacket and red flat pumps, and placed a thick black velvet choker with an enamel rose dangling from it around my neck. I never did much with my light brown hair, as it was already naturally wavy, but tonight I blasted it with my hairdryer, wound it up into a messy bun and vigorously hairsprayed it.

Too much effort? Maybe. Was I nervous? Slightly. Did I need to chill out? Definitely. I was starting to get so restless that I couldn't keep still, pacing around and around the bedroom, looking at myself in the (newly bought, unshattered) mirror on the door and constantly smoothing down my clothes. Sweet Jesus, I never acted like this. Fuck going on dates, man. If tonight went badly after all this effort, I was becoming an asexual, no question.

I looked at the clock on the wall. "Come on, come on, come on. Five minutes. Chill. The. Fuck. Out. Valley." I was about this close to punching and re-shattering the mirror.

There was the sudden sound of the doorbell going. I started so badly I tripped backwards over my camp bed. "Shit!"

"Valley! Your boy…date…friend is here!" Dave's father- who had returned home about an hour ago- called up the stairs.

"Coming, Dad!" I called back. Like I've said before, I was that comfortable in the Lizewski household. I grabbed hold of my little red handbag that contained my phone and purse and headed downstairs, trying for graceful movements rather than elephantine hurrying. That plan was crushed into forty-five thousand pieces when, halfway down the stairs, my pump came off and I went tumbling down the final four steps, landing in a heap of red and black on the floor. I practically shot back up to my feet, grinning like a mad person and brushing a few escaped tendrils of my hair out of my face. Thank God I hadn't been wearing heels- I would have broken my neck.

"No one ever expects me to be so clumsy," I announced to the room, which consisted of Dave, my possible adoptive-father-to-be and Chris. "What with all the sports and shit. People tend to think I have the world's best balance or something." I broke out into uneasy laughter which quickly died down. "Um, hey Chris."

"Hey Valley," he said with that little smile of his. He was looking good tonight, in his jeans, black Vans and checked shirt. "Are you ready to go?"

"I sure am," I replied, grabbing my shoe and slipping it back on to my foot. "Catch you guys later."

"Valley, it's a school night," Mr Lizewski informed me. "I want you home no later than eleven thirty." Jeez, he really did sound like my real father.

"Sir, yes sir!" I laughed, pulling a military salute.

"I'll make sure she is, sir," Chris put in.

"And on that note, we must be leaving," I said, grabbing Chris' hand and proceeding to pull him out of the front door, calling back, "Au revoir!"

* * *

Sitting in the back of Chris' dad's company's car that was being driven by his huge-ass bodyguard, who apparently doubled as a chauffeur, made me feel like I was a celebrity. Like, seriously. I'd never been chauffeur driven before. Understandably, since Dad had been the design adviser for an advertising firm, and it goes without saying that Mom had been unemployed.

"I could seriously get used to this," I murmured to myself, slipping down in my seat slightly so my feet were actually firmly planted on the floor. Fuck, I was short- I barely cleared five foot four. Marty was fond of saying I was 'fun-size'. Still, dangerous things can come in small packages. Just think of a piranha.

"What?" Chris said, and I flushed. I so didn't want him to hear or know what I'd just said- it made me sound like a total gold-digger, something I would never, _ever _be. I wasn't Kim Kardashian!

"Oh, um, I was just wondering what movie we were going to see," I said quickly.

"Oh. I thought we'd see _Paranormal Activity 2_," he replied with a grin. "You said the other day that you liked the _Spirit _movies, so I thought you'd like it."

_Erm, no, I had said that The Spirit 3 was good, and I'd been lying! I straight-up hate horror movies! Don't make me watch that! _was what I very, very nearly shouted at him. I thought it, sure, but how freaking ungrateful would it have been to say it out loud? Extremely, is the answer you are looking for.

"Oh, that's um…great," I said weakly, sitting up again so my feet now barely skimmed the floor of the car, my hands knotted together in my lap. "Loves me some horror movies. Haha…ha…ha…" Hello, my name is Captain Obvious, how can I help you?

"Is that okay? Are you sure?" Chris asked me, looking anxious as he noticed my unease. "We can see something else if you want."

It really was on the tip of my tongue to ask if we could go and see _Remember Me_, but I also didn't want to rain on Chris' parade, especially since when we'd gotten in the car he'd stated that he was paying for everything, despite my many, many, many protests.

"No, no, I'd love to see _Paranormal Activity 2_," I said firmly. "I might just scream a few times."

"It's okay, I won't let the demons get you," he teased, and I laughed, relaxing.

We pulled up outside the cinema a mere five or so minutes later, with ten minutes to go before the showing started. Mr Huge-Ass Bodyguard opened the door for me and I exited the car quickly, trying not to make eye contact with him.

The popcorn smell that engulfed me as we entered the cinema was welcoming; in all the craziness in my life at the minute, it smelt almost homely. My dad and I would go to the cinema almost every week to see whatever film was going, which was probably why I was so diverse in my movie tastes nowadays, aside from horrors: romance, comedy, action, sci-fi, thriller. I'd watch 'em all.

"Do you want to get a snack before we go in?" Chris asked. Jeez, I swear all the kid did was ask questions. Bless, maybe he was nervous. As nervous as I had been.

"Yeah, sure. Um, is it cool if I get a hot dog and a large Coke?" Large?! The hell did I say large for?! Large drinks in the cinema were the size of your average bucket! Great, now I looked like one greedy little motherfucker.

"Yeah, sure," he echoed me, before gesturing to Mr Huge-Ass Bodyguard and asking him to go get our food, asking for some nachos and a Sprite for himself. Simple tastes, apparently. Whilst he went of to get the food, Chris and I purchased our tickets and went through to the prescribed Screen 5. We settled into three seats at the back (Man Mountain had returned with snacks) and focussed on the screen, leaving little time for conversation.

As I predicted, I basically shat myself during the movie. I screamed at least four times- which was fine, as nearly everyone else in the theatre did too- and I even caught Chris whimpering once or twice. And I basically screeched my tonsils out at the ending when possessed Katie hurled Kristi at the camera. And by 'screeched', I mean I started screaming louder than anyone in the theatre and had to bury my face in Chris' shoulder with my eyes screwed shut to curtail myself. He put his arm around me then, warm and reassuring.

"The lights are up," he whispered to me a minute later when I'd shut up. "Valley, the movie's over. It's okay. You can look."

I peeked up, brushing my hair out of my eyes with a trembling hand. "It's over?"

"It's over," he confirmed, looking concerned for me. "I thought you said you liked horror movies?"

"Erm, I may have been slightly economical with the truth," I admitted. "I never actually said I 'liked' horror movies. I said I went to see _The Spirit 3 _and it was good. Which was a lie. I fucking hate horror movies. Like, completely. I only agreed to see this because you wanted to."

There was a pause. Then, "Actually, I don't really like horror movies that much either. I just thought you did. If I'd known, we could have seen _Remember Me _or something."

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. "No, it's fine. There's just an eighty-six percent chance I'll have a nightmare tonight. No big." I shrugged, then smiled reassuringly at me. "Seriously, Chris. Chill. I'll be fine. Let's get out of here."

We left the cinema holding hands, mostly because I was too scared to let go. That, and this _was_ a date. Wasn't hand-holding almost mandatory? Oh, what the fuck did I know? I'd spent the last seventeen years of my life (IE- all of it) spurring romance and instead reading comics and playing PlayStation.

All I knew was that I really liked Chris. The drive back to the Lizewski residence revealed to me that he was literally the easiest person in the world to talk to- we barely shut up. We had loads in common, what with the comics and movies, and I felt like he liked me too.

"So, favourite movie?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure. Probably _The Dark Knight_," he replied.

"Ah, I love meeting fellow comic nerds. 'Tis a beautiful movie," I said.

"What's yours?"

"Ooh, tough question. Gah, I love so many. I'd have to say _Resident Evil_. Zombies in sci-fi always top horror zombies."

"I've never seen it."

"You what? Dude, you have not lived. I'm afraid I'll have to change that." It was easy banter, a borderline flirty back-and-forth between the two of us, something I'd never experienced before. And I liked it.

The car pulled up outside the house a few minutes before eleven, so I was actually half an hour early for my curfew. I grabbed my bag and waited for Mr Huge-Ass Bodyguard to open my door. Chris walked me up to my front door, which I found really sweet.

"Thanks for tonight, Chris," I said almost shyly. "I had a really good time, despite the screaming." I laughed, and so did he.

"Yeah, that aside," he said. "I had fun too. We should do this again."

"That we should," I agreed. "Shoot me a text, you have my number. Obviously." I reached into my bag for my key, which I stuck in the lock, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Well, I say leaned. Chris was a good three inches taller than me, so I had to go on tiptoes to kiss him. "See you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye." Chris looked slightly surprised by my assault. I smiled at him one last time before I unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Hello, men of the Lizewski household!" I called. "Cinderella is home, and before her curfew!"

"Hey, Valley honey," Mr Lizewski called back, coming out of the kitchen. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. Yes I did," I answered. "Although our choice of film probably should have been revised, but there you go. _Paranormal Activity _and I don't really mix." I yawned. "Jesus, I'm beat. I'm hitting the hay. Wait, where's Dave?"

"In the shower," Mr Lizewski replied. "I think."

"Makes sense. Well, g'night."

"Night, sweetheart."

I froze. How did he know about-?! Oh. Right. 'Sweetheart' was probably the most common term of endearment in the world. Duh. I shook my head subtly to shake out the shock I'd just received, kicking my shoes off and hurrying up the stairs two at a time. Upstairs, I strained to listen for the shower going at the bathroom door, then I pounded on the door with my fist.

"Yo, Dave! Keep your ass in the bathroom for the next ten minutes 'cause I need to get ready for bed!"

All I got back was a very simple, "Okay!", so I proceeded into the bedroom and firmly closed the door. I unpinned my bun and let my hair fall in soft waves around my face, then grabbed a make-up wipe from my make-up bag on Dave's desk and set to removing all eyeliner and foundation on my face.

Finally, make-up and hairstyle-free, I changed out of my date clothes and into my far more comfortable purple and green jammies. I was too tired to wait for Dave to finish his shower, so I killed the lights and crawled under my duvet. As like every other night, the old camp bed groaned under my weight, a sound that would often keep me awake a good extra half hour. However, tonight I was so tired that I was unconscious almost the second my head hit my pillow.

* * *

_Mom?" I call, opening the front door of the house. "Mom, are you home? Moooomm…" I am fifteen years old, and just home from school. Today is the year anniversary of Dad being killed. This will be a bad day. Mom always drinks to make the pain go away. And today, there will be a lot of pain. I know it._

_The house is almost silent. All I can hear is the sound of water dribbling in the pipes buried in the wall, and something else. Music. I can hear the opening bars of Frankie Goes To Hollywood's _The Power of Love_. Mom and Dad's first dance song. Oh no…_

"_Mom, I know you're home," I call. "I can hear the music! Are you upstairs!"_

_I hear footsteps above me. They move from the ceiling under Mom's bedroom, out into the landing, then to the top of the stairs. They are stumbling footsteps. Shit. Mom is drunk. Of course._

"_Valley, is that you?" I hear her slur, so I drop my bag and hurry to the stairs to see her. Oh Mom…just the sight of her makes me want to cry. She used to be so pretty, almost beautiful, with her masses of black hair and her big green eyes. My eyes. But now her hair hangs in greasy, unkempt strands and her eyes look too big for her now-gaunt face._

"_Yeah, Mom, it's me. I'm home," I say gently, walking halfway up the stairs to her. She meets me intermediately, lurching down the steps, colliding with me, almost knocking the two of us down the stairs. She stinks of vodka and whiskey- a deadly combination._

"_Where have you been?" she slurs. "I woke up and you were gone."_

"_I had school, Mom," I reply quietly. I need to be quiet. If I'm loud, she'll get angry. I hate her when she's angry. "It's Monday."_

"_You were supposed to stay with me," she says indistinctively. "You promised you'd stay with me!" She's starting to get louder, her tone accusatory._

"_I can't keep skipping school!" I retort angrily, forgetting to keep calm and quiet. "I missed two and a half days last week! People are starting to notice my absences, idiot!"_

"_Don't shout at me!" Mom shouts blurrily, and she abruptly releases me, and I stumble down a couple of steps. "You insolent bitch!"_

"_I'm trying to help you!" I yell back, my temper flaring up automatically. "I. Can't. Keep. Skipping. School! Do you want to get arrested?! Because that's what'll happen! You'll lose me, Mom! They'll send me to a home, away from YOU!"_

"_Are you threatening me?" Mom steps down towards me, so I quickly back up down the stairs to the bottom._

"_Why would I threaten you? I'm trying to make you see the truth! You're a fucking mess, Mom!"_

_Mom's hand flies out and connects with my cheek with a loud and harsh slap. The force of the slap sends me sprawling to the ground, landing flat on my back. Tears spring to my eyes as I feel the sting spreading across the entire left side of my face. _

"_Valley!" I hear Mom gasp, and just the way she says it tells me that she's horrified. She's never hit me before. A couple of near-hits before, sure, but never a straight-out smack to the face. I'm shocked, and as I look up at her, I can tell she is too._

"_You hit me! Oh my God, Mom, you hit me!"_

"_I'm so sorry!" she cries, running down the stairs and dropping to her knees next to me. Her tone and movements have sobered up slightly. "Valley, baby, I'm so sorry!" She's crying, putting her arms around me and drawing me up into a sitting position. "Baby, please forgive me! I'm sorry!"_

_I'm crying too now, because I can see how horrible she feels. "Mommy!" I reach up and put my arms around her tightly, hugging her, wanting to make the pain go away._

"_I'm so sorry, sweetheart!"_

"_Mommy, I want my daddy!" _

"_I know baby, I want him too! But he's not here! It's just me! And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…wake up Valley…Valley…wake up!"_

* * *

"Valley! Wake up!" Someone was shaking me, calling my name.

"Mommy!" I sobbed. "Where's Daddy!"

"Valley, you're scaring me! Wake up!" Suddenly I was being shaken even more forcefully, and my eyes burst open as I shot up into a sitting position.

I wasn't at home, but in Dave's bedroom, tangled up in a duvet on a camp bed. It wasn't Mom telling me to wake up, but Dave, who was staring at me with wide, apprehensive eyes. But I was crying; tears were streaming thick and fast down my cheeks, and I was weeping into the duvet. The clock on the wall told me it was just after three in the morning.

"Dave!" I wept, reaching out and clinging to him like one of those toy monkeys with Velcro hands. "It was so horrible! I had a nightmare…my mom…" I dissolved into sobs again.

"It's okay," he said soothing, stroking my hair. "It's okay, Valley. It was a dream. It wasn't real. It wasn't real." It was at times like this when I knew why I was closest to Dave- he was always going to be there for me.

"I want my daddy!" I howled into his shoulder.

"I know, Vee," he said carefully. "But he isn't here anymore."

He was right. Dad wasn't here anymore, and neither was Mom. I could sob and howl and scream all I wanted, but it wouldn't bring them back. Nothing could. All I could do about it was turn the pain and rage I felt at being left by them into something vaguely positive. And that positive something was Sweetheart.

* * *

"_And I don't even know how __I'll__ survive.  
I won't make it to the shore without your light.  
No I don't even know if I'm alive.  
Oh, without you now,  
This is what it feels like._"

**-Armin van Buuren, "This Is What It Feels Like"**

* * *

**A/N- Da da da daaaa! Chaptero Three! The first date! Also, the first chapter with absolutely zilch taken from the film, which is cool for me. I hope you liked it! Make sure to check out the link to Valley's costume on my profile! So tat-ta for now! Oh, wait! One last thing: let's get some reviews out here, 'cause they make me work faster! Well, as fast as I can work when I have to update my other fic, but that's a whole other ballgame! Xx Gee xX**


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